Found
by vlynn5894
Summary: Seuqal to 'Lost'. Clues bring the guys to a small town in Russia. Tom is hell bent on finding his girlfriend, but is suddenly sidetracked with helping a young girl he meets. Can he save them both? R&R please! Tokio Hotel!
1. Headlines

"The internationally famous band, **Tokio Hotel, **has been **found**…"

"Tokio Hotel was found yesterday outside their Hamburg studio…"

"After being reported missing by their manager, **David Jost**, Tokio Hotel has been returned after being **abducted** four days ago…"

"They were discovered **unconscious** with multiple **fractures**, serious bruising, **head injuries**, and other wounds that required **immediate medical attention**…"

"Serious wounds that we are told are from **daily beatings**…"

"Doctors say they should recover from all **physical wounds** within a year, but who know what kind of **psychological damage** was done?..."

"Authorities have **found the location** where the boys were being held, but it appears their captors have **fled** and left **no trace** behind…"

"While the four boys have been returned, the whereabouts of** Tom's** **girlfriend**, and TH's publicist, **Veronica Oswell**, are **still unknown**…"

"Police say they are searching **around the clock** for the missing girl, but it seems as though she has **vanished without a trace**…"

"Tom Kaulitz **swears** he will find his girlfriend, even if he has to go to the **ends of the Earth** to find her…"

"Almost **a year has passed** and police still have **no leads** as to where Veronica is…"

"The trail has **gone cold** on the search for Veronica Oswell…"

"Veronica, if you can hear this, **help us**…"


	2. This town is depressing

Tom's P.O.V

The Russian countryside passed by in a blur as we sped through the streets to the small police station. Authorities there said they had found a fingerprint of one of the men that had abducted us in a warehouse. I was going along with the captain and officers from Germany just in case they found her. Throughout the entire eighteen months that had passed with our any sign of finding the bastards who had abducted us, I had been telling the police everything I could think of that might help them find Veronica. While the rest of the guys were happy just to be free of that hell we'd been kept in, I still felt just as tortured without her by my side. Bill had tried to distract me by writing lyrics and encouraging me to come up with riffs for them. At first I had refused; not getting out of bed for weeks on end, sick with misery. Slowly, though, I realized that by sitting in bed and moping about it, I wasn't helping find her any faster. So for the past year and a half, I'd been working side- by- side with the police. For the most part, nothing had come up on the men who had taken us, but a small lead had brought us to a small town in Russia.

Most of the scenery during the car ride into the town was farm land. It was the middle of the summer, but the fields were brown and bare. When we actually arrived in the town, our car was one of the few on the road. Most of the buildings were crumbling and in desperate need of repairs. People in the streets glanced at as we drove past. Most of them sat on curbs and boxes lined up on the sides of buildings and wore patched-up clothes. Not one person smiled or took any real interest in us. Families who were walking looked grave, mothers crying along with their young children. A girl with long black hair walked quickly as if she were afraid of something behind her. We finally arrived at the police station in the middle of the town. It was just as run down as the rest of the town, but the officers inside were alert and ready for action. We were greeted by their captain who showed us to his office.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," he said in a thick accent. It reminded me of the Ringleader and put my teeth on edge.

"Good day," I said quickly. "We were told you had found a lead on the people who had abducted us."

"Yes; we found a finger print in a ware house that has been abandoned for quite some time. The print was fairly fresh, so we suspect they are somewhere in the area."

"What if they hear about your lead and flee town?" Bill asked.

"We have police stationed at every road going in and out of town and are inspecting each building one by one."

"Then we can expect that you will notify us if you find anything further?" I inquired.

"Of course," the man said.

After he and the captain we had come with had talked for a bit about strategies and other business, we left the station to head over to the hotel we would be staying at for the time we would be staying there. On the way out, someone walked into me and fell over. I looked down to see the black haired girl we had passed on the way here.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I-"

"Оставь меня в покое," she said quickly as she stood and walked away without looking at me. She glanced back at me and then ran up the street as if I were chasing her.

"What did she say?" I asked Gustav who was standing right behind me.

"'Leave me alone', I think," he said, also watching where she had run around the corner.

"Where's she running to?" Georg asked as he stepped into the car.

"Beats me," I said as I followed him.

The ride to the hotel was short and quiet. The building was old and dingy, but the inside was in better condition that the outside. The rooms were small, but cozy; and I hadn't seen any rodents or bugs thus far. Our rooms were on the fourth floor and had a nice view of the apartment building on the other side of a narrow alley. I sat down on the mattress, finding it quite comfortable, and studied the room for a little while. There was a small window that looked into the apartment directly across from mine. Looking through it, I could see someone on the other side. It was that same dark haired girl I'd seen earlier, looking at the alley below with tears running down her face. I was just about to get her attention when the door of the room she was standing in opened and the silhouette of a man could be seen. The girl turned quickly as if startled. I couldn't hear what was being said, but I could tell he was yelling at her and she was afraid of him. At one point he bitch slapped her across the face so hard she fell to the floor. He stood there watching her sobbing on the floor for a while before he pulled her to her feet and dragged her to a bed in the corner. After tossing her on the mattress he closed the curtains, denying me from seeing anymore of their argument.

Disturbed by what I'd just witnessed, I closed my own curtains and went down to Bill's room where I found him and the G's looking at a room service menu. Bill could tell something was troubling me when I walked in.

"You alright?" he asked.

"If you wanna call it that," I responded somberly.

"This town is pretty despicable, isn't it?" He said.

"Yeah," I said distantly.

"What's wrong?" Gustav pressed.

"I just saw some guy beat up his wife or girl friend or daughter or whatever. It was that girl who bumped into me earlier."

"Maybe he's why she was in such a hurry."

"Yeah, maybe."

The sight of her as she was being thrown around by him replayed in my mind; then when she bumped into me earlier; then when I'd seen her on our way into town. It occurred to me that I hadn't gotten a good look at her face. I couldn't help but wonder '_What was she hiding?_'


	3. So we meet at last

I woke up the next morning from yet another dreamless night. It was one of the effects of the sleeping pills the doctor had given me to help me sleep after we'd been found. When we were first brought to the hospital I had fitful nights that kept me awake for days. When I did manage to fall asleep from exhaustion I had horrid, gruesome nightmares and was awakened by my own screaming. Given the alternative, I preferred not to dream of anything, despite the emptiness of my nights.

I hauled myself out of bed and sauntered over to the bathroom. I started the water and returned to the bedroom to look out the window. I'm not sure why, but for some reason looking out windows always reminded me of Veronica. Probably because she liked to look out windows when we were traveling or just sitting around. Or maybe I was just wishing to see her standing outside waiting for me. Either way, she was always the first thing on my mind when I woke. Always hoping to open my eyes and find her sleeping peacefully beside me, and being devastated when I found myself alone in the bed.

Outside, I could see several cats lying around in the alley. Again, this reminded me of Veronica and how much she loved cats. I never really cared for them myself, but she loved them like crazy. So much it surprised me she only had one when I first met her. When we started touring, she gave it to one of her cousins to take care of.

I went back to the bathroom and found that the water was more than the temperature than I wanted. After some adjustment, I shed my sweatpants and boxers and stepped under the warm water. I picked up the bar of soap and rubbed it over by body. The hairs on my arm pricked when I went over the rigid skin on my lower back that was burnt beyond helping and raised into the shape of a large swastika (Nazi symbol). The flesh was rough and hard from the multiple layers of skin the burn mark went through. The doctors said they could remove most of the scar tissue, but there would still be an imprint in the dead skin. I'd told them I wanted to wait for them to do so because I was still trapped and didn't want it removed until I could honestly say I felt free from the Ringleader's death-cold grip.

Stepping out of the shower, I felt more awake, but not anymore alive. After getting dressed, I looked out the window again. The cats were still lazing around the alley, but now they were gathered around someone. It was the black- haired girl from before. For some reason, I suddenly felt protective of her and had the strongest urge to go down there and make sure she was alright after yesterday. Five minutes later, I found myself going down the stairs, out the front doors, and into the alley where the girl was sitting. I didn't know if she knew German or not, but it was worth a shot.

"Hi, I'm Tom-"

I didn't even finish my sentence before she stood and ran back into the apartment building through a side door. So much for making sure she was alright. I turned and went back into the hotel. I decided to go to Bill's room to see if he was up yet. Upon approaching his door, I could hear the familiar sound of Halo 2 coming through the walls. I let myself in and sat down on the couch while the rest of the guys played mindless videogames.

~*~*~*~*~*~

As the next few weeks went by, I stilled tried to get the mysterious girl to talk to me, but whenever I came near, she would run back into her apartment. And every day I would ask myself why I was being so persistent when she kept running away from me. But deep down, I knew I kept doing this because I knew she needed someone to talk to; someone to protect her from whoever was abusing her.

The only question was, how do I get her to listen to me first?

*~*~*~*~*~*

Last night I just couldn't sleep. My pills for some reason weren't working, and I'd spent the entire night tossing and turning. And to make it worse, I'd been hearing screams all night in my head. I don't think I need to tell you who's they were. Odd thing was, when I used to hear her screams they sounded kinda far away; these screams sounded so real and so near it was hard to tell if it really was just in my head. Even into the early hours of the morning, I could hear the sobbing. When I decided to get out of bed, I looked out the window and saw that the sobs weren't in my head at all, but coming from the dark- haired girl across the alley. I suddenly decided to get to the alley before her and try again to talk to her. I quickly got dressed and ran downstairs. I waited by the door that leads from the alley into the apartment building until it opened. The girl sat down on the steps and continued to sob into her hands. One of the many stray cats walked up and rubbed it's head against her leg. She reached out and stroked it as her cries quieted.

"How much longer will this go on, Misha?" she asked the cat.

I was surprised she was speaking German rather than Russian.

"Hi," I said from behind her.

She jumped about two feet in the air and made a grab for the door, but I was standing right next to it, blocking her hand. She tried to run out of the alley, but I grabbed her wrist before she could. She pulled and struggled, but I just stood there.

"пожалуйста! Отпустите меня!" she cried.

"I know you speak German, just calm down I just want to talk."

She finally broke free of my grasp and darted for the exit to the alley.

"I know he's been hurting you," I called after her, "if you ever want someone to talk to, my window's right across from yours!"

A minute later she walked back into the alley slowly with her arms crossed over her chest. She kept her clear blue eyes on me fearfully, as if at any moment I would lash out and hit her. She inched her way along the brick wall, always staying slightly turned towards the street.

"What do you want?" she asked in a light accent and a small, shaky voice.

"I just want to talk. I've seen that guy hit you around and I just wanted to know if you would like to talk to someone about it?"

She gazed at me analytically, glancing at the street out of the corner of her eye every few seconds.

"I'm Tom."

"Lynn."

"I know what it's like to be beat up like that every day, felt like hell and seemed hopeless. Even after I was released from that place, I felt like I couldn't feel like I could function properly in the normal world. Or, what you might call 'normal' for me."

She just stood there staring at me with those big, terror- filled eyes. She turned her gaze to the ground and kicked a rock around.

"My father blames me for the death of my mother and sister. He is a drunk and likes to hit me when he comes home from the bar; for things he thinks I might have done. If he finds out about me talking to you, he will punish me harshly," she said, trebling slightly.

"Is that why you ran from me every day?"

She nodded. "He left this morning for a trip to my uncle's. He beat me half the night in case I got in trouble."

"I know, I could hear you." She cringed for a moment. "It reminds me of my girlfriend, she- uh, she's been missing for the past year and a half and my last memories of her were of watching her be raped right in front of me."

"I am sorry. I hope you find her," Lynn said softly.

"Thanks; would you like to come in and sit down?" I offered, gesturing towards my hotel.

"No, I must go finish the chores my father left for me."

She turned and walked out of the alley.

"So does this mean you'll stop running from me?" I called after her.

"Until my father comes back, yes."

I went back to my room with a new sense of comfort that I hadn't felt in quite a while. I just hoped Lynn had the same feeling now.


	4. Well, this is awkward

I spent the next two months or so talking to Lynn as often as possible. We mostly met near dusk between our buildings. It was starting to become the highlight of my day, and seemingly the highlight of hers too. We usually talked about what we wanted to do with our lives. She confided in me that she wanted to leave Russia and settle down somewhere and have a family. I told her about the plans Veronica and I had made to do mostly the same. She didn't like to talk about her family much; just that her mother and older sister had died somehow and her father blamed her for it. One thing about her I found a bit odd was that she always wore long sleeves and usually a jacket over it. Even in the late summer, when it wasn't cold enough for jackets and long sleeves yet. I never pressed her about it, though; she was incredibly shy. Several times I suggested she meet the rest of the guys and in doing so made her practically sprint back inside.

While Lynn was taking up my evening time, I spent my days with the police officers getting updates on what they were finding out about the creeps who took us and their possible whereabouts of them. After searching the warehouse more thoroughly, they had found more fingerprints and other suspicious items that were helping speed the search. Each new finding brought out a feeling of relief in me, and a feeling of helplessness at the same time. While they were busy examining clues, she was out there somewhere, possibly being tortured and suffering. What made it worse was the fact that the town we were in was only a few square kilometers in area, so she could be in the basement next door and we were wasting time with silly fingerprints! The long hours in the cramped office were almost unbearable for me. And I still wasn't able to sleep most nights.

One day, Lynn didn't show up in the alley like she usually did. I stood there waiting for almost an hour before she poked her head out the door. She quickly glanced in all directions before addressing me.

"Tom, I can't come out tonight," she said in a hushed voice.

"Why not?"

"My father, he is back from my uncle's. I cannot see you anymore."

"Lynn wait-"

But the door slammed shut before I could call her back. I trudged back up to my room glumly. What would I do with myself now if I didn't have someone to talk to? I knew I had the rest of the band and the other people who came with us, but talking to Lynn was……how can I put this? Different. She seemed to understand me when I talked about the life I wanted with Veronica and she didn't get into the whole "Keep your spirits up and I know you'll find her" crap. She understood what it felt like to lose a loved one; how lost you feel without them. I also felt bad that she would have to deal with her abusive father again. I decided to go see what the other guys were doing. I found Bill in his room getting ready to go out it seemed.

"What are you all dressed up for?" I asked.

He was wearing a pair of clean black pants, a freshly ironed white dress shirt and a pinstripe vest. His hair was styled in a big, spiky Mohawk and his eyes were heavily lined.

"Gustav and Georg and I are going out for dinner. You should join us," he said as he made sure every strand of hair was in place.

"What's the occasion?"

"We just felt like we all need to relax for a little. You especially; you haven't been sleeping lately and you spend all your time outside talking to Lynn. Come out with us, have a few beers, loosen up."

"Fine, I'll go."

"Good; now go clean yourself up. You're starting to grow a beard."

I went back to my room to try to take his advice. I hadn't brought anything worthy of going to a restaurant with me when I packed for this trip. Silly me, why would I over look that possibility (not)? I found something kind of appropriate for a restaurant in my mess of wrinkled t-shirts and stained jeans. I stepped into the bathroom to rid myself of the beard Bill claimed I was growing. Wow- I did have a beard growing in. Shaving it off actually did make me feel a little bit better. Changing into nice clothes lifted me a bit as well, although I would probably never shake the feeling of anxiousness in my stomach. After meeting up with the others in the lobby, we stepped into our rented car and drove to a quaint little bar almost on the edge of the town. I was surprised there even was a restaurant in this place.

We sat at the bar and ordered a round of beers and some food. After downing those, we ordered another and another and another until we were almost falling off our stools. The others were cracking stupid jokes and laughing like a bunch of hyenas. I, on the other hand, became angry as hell for some reason. _Why are we sitting in a fucking bar when we need to be trying to find Veronica?? _I thought over and over again. The more I drank, the angrier I became. Suddenly the lights got dimmer and loud rap music was pounding throughout the room. Women in skimpy outfits in ridiculous heels appeared on the bar and started teasing the guys sitting at the counter. Everyone else, including my brother and the G's, started shouting vulgarities at the women. It only fueled my anger further.

"Hey-y Tom, why s-so s-sad?" Bill slurred, noticing my bad mood.

"I'm not in the mood for a strip tease," I grumbled, taking another sip of my beer.

"You know, you r-really need t-to loosen up," he said as he flagged down a waitress.

"Can y-you s-set my brother up with one of these l-lovely ladies?" he asked her, handing her a small wad of cash.

"Da," she said, eyeing me.

She grabbed me by the arm and dragged me towards the back of the bar.

"Go get 'er, Tom!" Georg called after us. The others began cheering briefly as the women on the bar came over to them.

The waitress pulled me into a hallway that led into the back of the building where several other rooms were located. There were moans and other sensual sounds coming from several of the rooms. She stopped at a door and pulled a big ring of keys from her pocket.

"I really don't want-"

"Your bother pay for one hour. I come back in forty five minutes to give you warning. Use condom, they in the drawer," she said as she opened the door and shoved me inside, shutting it behind me.

The room was small and dingy; it only held a full size bed and a nightstand. The walls looked like they hadn't been washed in years and there were no sheets on the mattresses Sitting on the bed was a young girl wearing a bra and a pair of short shorts.

"Uh, look, you're very pretty, but I don't want to-"

"Tom?" a familiar small voice said.

"Lynn? What are you doing here?"


	5. Revealing the past

She looked at me with ashamed eyes before looking at the floor.

"My father lost his job when he became an alcoholic," she said in a trembling voice. "I don't want to be here, but we need money."

We sat there in a very awkward silence for some time. This was a whole new level of shocking I didn't even know existed.

"I knew he was harsh with you, but I had no idea-"

"Don't apologize; you didn't put me here," she said glumly. I could tell she was about the start crying.

Silently I removed my oversized jacked and placed it around her shoulders. She pulled it tighter around her body as though it could protect her from her evil father. I never would've imagined he made her do something this low. I sat down next to her on the filthy mattress.

"Why are you here?" she asked softly.

"I told you, I'm trying to find my girlfriend."

"No, why are you back here? In the brothel?"

"Oh; my brother got drunk and made me."

She let out something like a laugh. There were tears leaking from the corners of her eyes now.

"How long have you been forced to do this?" I asked softly.

"Nearly two years," she sniffled.

"Does he make you do this every night?" I probably shouldn't have been asking, but I was so curious.

"Depends when his 'customers' give him a call," she explained. "Sometimes they want drugs, sometimes they want booze, and sometimes they just want a pretty girl for their pleasure. He usually escorts me to their house for 'deliveries', but when his 'business' is slow he makes me come here."

"And the owners let him throw a random girl in their business?"

"One of his friends owns the restaurant and the brothel."

Silence settled over us once again. We could hear other customers 'getting served' through the thin walls. I could sense that some of the other girls didn't want to be here either.

"Does your father control any other girls here?"

"No, just me. It is dangerous to own more than one girl in this place."

"What do you mean?"

"Prostitution and brothels are illegal here."

"Well I can go to the police and shut them down. There's a whole bunch of-"

"No!" she cried.

I stared at her in disbelief.

"My father would just move his operation somewhere else if he heard they were looking for him."

"What if he-"

"No. He _would_ find out. And then he _would_ kill me."

"How would he know you were involved?"

"I don't know, but he always has a way of finding out everything. He has spies all over the city."

She was sobbing lightly now. Her face was red and had years of abuse and torture written all over it.

"Why do you put up with your father?" I asked. She looked at me in a shocked way. "Why can't you just leave him and start the life you've always wanted?"

"Because he would find me somehow, and when he did he would beat me and torture me and then he would kill me," she choked out. "I am not allowed to leave our building without an escort by one of my uncles or him. If I do one thing that he does not like he beats me senseless. I am afraid everyday that I will displease him somehow and he will kill me."

She was sobbing like crazy by now. She was so skinny she shook violently with every fit of sobs that racked her body. I sympathetically wrapped my arms around her, which she leaned into welcomingly. I let her cry on my shoulder until she calmed down, rubbing her back gently the whole time. At this time, the waitress knocked on the door to give us our fifteen minute warning.

"Would it be such a crazy idea if I suggested you come hide in our hotel?" I asked.

"My father would find out," Lynn sniffled. "He would somehow find me and kill us both."

"I'm sorry you have to live like that."

"There is nothing you could do. He will force me to do these things until the day he dies. Or until the day he kills me."

The waitress knocked on the door again and shouted that our time was up. I sighed and stood up, heading sadly for the door. Lynn started to take off my jacket to give it back to me.

"Keep it," I insisted.

"Are you sure? I know this is one of your favorite jackets and-"

"Keep it," I said as I got closer to the door.

"Thank you," she said softly, a faint trace of a smile on her lips. "You are so kind."

"No, I just know how to treat people," I said as I softly shut the door.

The guys were still drunk as hell when I returned to my seat.

"Hey Tom; so how was it?" Georg snickered.

I just rolled my eyes at him.

"Come on, it's getting late," I said as the other three stumbled behind me to the car.

I drove us back to the hotel and made sure they all got back to their rooms before returning to mine. I decided to take a shower to wash strong odor of beer off my body. I then slipped into clean boxers and a pair of old sweat pants. I looked out my window before crawling into bed. I saw Lynn across the alley looking out her window, looking at the dark ground below. She was still wearing my jacket around her shoulders like before. When she looked up she saw me and waved. I waved back and maintained eye contact for a little while. I opened my window and motioned for her to do the same.

"No major problems tonight, it seems," I yelled across the alley.

"No, not really," she responded.

"No fuss over you having my jacket?"

"He was too wasted to notice. I should go before we wake him up."

"Well, good night," I said as I closed the window.

"Good night," she called.

Just before I put my head on the pillow, I caught a glimpse of Lynn's father enter her room, grab her by the shoulders, and slam her on the floor. Not too much later, I could smell my favorite jacket going up in flames.


	6. Finding the unexpected

I rolled out of bed late the next day to someone pounding at my door. My head hurt and I was in no mood to talk to people after knowing whatever happened to Lynn last night was more than likely my fault. Her father had most likely heard our brief conversation and seeing her with another person's jacket probably just fueled his anger. This was gonna bother me for the rest of the day for sure. I opened the door to find the police captain with a few of the detectives.

"Tom, we have good news," the captain said.

"What?"

"Get dressed, we're going down to the station," he ordered.

"Ok, I'll be out in a few," I said closing the door.

I quickly dressed in a random pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I threw on my sneakers and flew out the door down to the front of the building where the police car was waiting. We sped off in the direction of the small police station.

"So what sort of good news is this?" I asked, feeling anxious.

"We found some things that we think might be Veronica's," one of the detectives informed me.

All previous thoughts of anything potentially ruining my day evaporated at hearing this. _She_ is _here?_ _She must be close somewhere_. My thoughts were racing like mad. When we finally got to the station I practically ran out of the car, impatient to see what they found. The detective led us into the building, up some stairs, and into a small lab where several people in white coats were looking through microscopes and talking about stuff on their computers. We were led to a table where a small plastic bin held a few items. The detective laid them out on the table in front of me. I recognized them immediately as Veronica's old wallet, under shirt, necklace, and a scrap of paper.

I picked up her necklace; a silver treble clef with a single onyx stone on a chain I'd given to her for her last birthday. Her shirt was spotted with blood and powdered with dirt. I picked it up as if it were incredibly fragile. I felt the thin material between my fingers, remembering how I used to be able to feel her skin right through it. I inhaled through the flimsy shirt; it still smelled like her. There was some moisture in my eyes by now, but I didn't really care. It placed her shirt and necklace back on the table and picked up her wallet. The material was worn and torn but surprisingly still in one piece. I opened it to find it had been completely emptied of money and credit cards.

I checked the hidden pocket and found an old picture of us from one of our old dates when we found and old Polaroid camera. We were looking up at the camera smiling, arms around each other, her head leaning against my chest. We were sitting on the couch in her old apartment which I still kept tidy for her. Looking at that picture bought back so many good memories of us; it made more tears fall from my eyes.

"We found these in a crate on its way to the junk yard. It was so old it broke apart as it was being lifted into the garbage truck," one of the officers said. "It would've been just picked up and discarded anyway, but when the garbage men saw the blood on the shirt they called us."

"Where was the crate picked up from?" I asked, wiping the tears from my face.

"The back of a bar, along with several other crates that were empty."

"So are you going to investigate the bar now?"

"No; first we're going to take a closer look at the dirt and stains on the items we found and gather as much evidence from that as we can," one of the people in a lab coat said.

"What? She could be right inside that building and you're not going to look there?" I exclaimed.

"Tom, we have to be very careful with this. If we just go barging into every building we find evidence near, we would've scared them away by now."

This information was not making sense to me; If there were such obvious signs of her being there why would they ignore what's right under their noses?

"Tom," one of the other detectives got my attention, "these are just markers of her presence; they don't necessarily mean she's there."

"I would like to go back to my hotel now," I said. I'd heard enough of their explanations for one day.

When I got back to the hotel I headed for the elevators and waited for one of them to come down. I became impatient to headed for the side door instead. I stepped out into the quiet alley that divided the buildings along the empty street leaving the door open. The early evening air was cold and stung my face, but I didn't really feel it. I just needed to be alone for a little while to think. Despite the good news from the police that morning, hearing the news just sent me back into that dark world of nothingness that not even Bill could pull me back from. Where was she? Was she thinking of me? Was she even alive? All they said was that they had found evidence of her presence, not her living, breathing, self. Not that she was alive, not that she was somewhere safe; just evidence of her physical presence. While the knowledge that she was out there somewhere cheered me up a bit, not knowing where exactly was what killed me.

As I turned to go back inside, I heard the sound of a door open and close behind me and a bunch of stuff falling.

"Shit," a soft voice said. I turned around and there was Lynn, picking up stuff that fell out of the duffel bag she was carrying.

"Lynn, what are you doing?" I asked her as I watched her forcefully shove things into her bag.

"I'm leaving," she told me in a determined voice.

"What-why?"

"I can't stay here anymore."

"What do you mean?"

She turned her head and looked at me with her big, frightened blue eyes that seemed to have some new kind of strength in them, before turning back to her clothes on the ground.

"I can't stay in this building anymore. I can't stay in this town anymore. I'm leaving, and he'll never see me again," I knew she was talking about her father. She stood up, turned toward the back of the alley that led away from the buildings and took a few steps.

"You can stay with us if you need a place to stay." She stopped dead in her tracks.

"No, I can't. That's part of the reason I'm leaving," she said without turning around. "I can't stand being this close to you and not able to be with you. It tears me apart inside every time I see you."

"Lynn, what are you talking about?" I was genuinely confused at what she was trying to say.

She did a slow about-face and looked up at me.

"Tom, look at me. Don't I look familiar to you at all?" she asked me.

I looked at her face, but I still couldn't understand what she was trying to tell me. I guess she could tell by the look on my face. She took her bag off her shoulder before stepping towards me so she was right in front of me. She placed both of her hands on the back of my neck and pulled me down so our foreheads were touching.

"Look closer," she whispered.

I looked into her wide, oddly familiar eyes; those eyes--where had I seen them before? Her wide, deep blue eyes that seemed to draw me into them like a moth to a candle. The hope in them seemed to have no boundaries, yet fear of the present clouded them. I had seen these eyes before, with a similar expression, but where? And then, like a ton of bricks, it hit me.

"Veronica," I breathed her name so softly, I don't know if she heard me.

I pulled my face back to look at the rest of her; her face, a little more slender than I remembered, but defiantly hers; her small, delicate, yet strong hands; her long, thin, fragile frame hidden under her long sleeves and usual jeans. Except for the black hair, I couldn't believe I hadn't seen the resemblance before.

"Veronica," I said in complete shock.

"Tom, I-"

"Lynn, what are you-Hey!" her "father" had walked into the alley without us hearing and, now that he'd seen what we were doing, was charging in our direction.


	7. I can sleep peacefully now

Without even thinking, I grabbed Veronica's wrist and pulled her into my hotel, slamming and locking the door behind us. I run with her up the stairs all four floors to my room past Bill's open door, not stopping until I had pulled her in my room and locked the door behind us. I stood against the door, turned away from her; both of us breathing heavily.

"Tom-I-"

I turned and pulled her into my arms without even thinking and held on to her like a life raft, saving me from the depths my dark world. She returned my embrace without hesitation. Tears began falling from both of our eyes out of pure joy.

"Is it really you?" I whispered in her ear.

She nodded her head in response.

"Yes, it's really me. I'm so sorry, I should've told you."

"It's ok, baby. It's ok."

The shock had worn off and was now replaced by an overwhelming sense of elation. I pulled her tighter to me, boggled by the fact that she was standing right in front of me. She _was_ safe. She _was_ alive; and she would always be with me now. Because I would never let her out of my sight again; ever.

Neither of us could move for what seemed like the longest time. We just stood there with our arms wrapped tightly around one another.

"Tom? Lynn? What's going on?"

"Lynn, your father just sped off in his car, where's he going?"

Bill and Gustav started banging on the door, wondering what was going on. I smiled into Veronica's hair before pulling back to look at her face.

"They're never going to believe it's you with that black hair," I observed.

She just smiled and bent forward, flipping her hair over. She then pulled up at something I couldn't see, but a moment later I understood as the wig she had been wearing fell to the floor and all of the long, dirty blonde locks I remembered fell forward. She stood up and I almost burst into tears again from seeing her look almost identical to the young woman I remembered.

"Does this look more like my former self?" she asked.

"Exactly the same," I told her as I put my arm around her waist and steered her towards the door.

I opened the door, hiding Veronica from the worried Bill and Gustav, acting totally casual.

"Tom, what's going on?" Bill asked before I got one word out. "And what are you smiling at?"

"Look what I found," I simply said as I opened the door all the way.

Bill and Gustav's eyes suddenly opened to the size of eggs and their jaws dropped straight to the ground floor of our hotel. They moved their mouths as if to say something, but couldn't find the right words. Veronica suppressed a giggle and just smiled at them.

"You're allowed to talk, you know," she said in her soft voice.

They suddenly flung themselves around her, wrapping her in a tight embrace and snatching her out from my grasp, which panicked me for a moment. I could tell from the look on her face she wasn't too thrilled about their unannounced action, either. She suddenly went rigid and pale, wide eyes looking up the ceiling with a terrified expression on her face. Her breathing was shaky and panicked, and then she started trembling. Sensing this, Bill and Gustav let go of her shaking body and backed away. The small, petrified Veronica collapsed to the floor, supporting her torso on her still shaking arms. The two of them dropped to their knees beside her, not sure what to do. I rushed to her side on the floor, collecting her in my arms.

"Baby, what's wrong?" I asked her while I rubbed her back.

She looked up from the floor into my eyes, showing me the same expression as the night when He-, point is, the sudden feeling of being restrained and squeezed tightly brought back too many horrific memories of being tortured by that madman. I hugged her closer to me, whispering softly to her.

"It's ok; he's not here; you're safe now; I'm right here; it was only Bill and Gustav."

"Veronica, we're sorry; we had no idea-" Bill started to say, realizing why she was acting this way. He suddenly stopped talking when she looked up at him. She had somewhat stopped trembling, at least now it wasn't noticeable by looking at her. She sat up and put her arms around Bill's chest. He carefully put his arms around her small body.

"We missed you," he said to her softly.

"I missed you, too," came her softer reply.

Gustav, feeling left out, reached over and pulled Veronica off Bill. She turned around and did the same thing with him. After a minute or two, I pulled her back in my lap, holding her securely in my arms.

"You were really right next door the entire time we were talking to 'Lynn'." Gustav more or less stated.

"Uh-huh. I'm sorry," she said.

"It's ok, it wasn't your fault," Bill told her.

We all sat there on the floor for a while; us looking at her, her looking at all of us. There seemed to be no need for verbal communication at that time. The expression in her eyes told us everything; her relief for revealing who she was, joy for being found, fear that He would come back. We all looked at her with a response to each emotion she had; finally knowing she was safe took a huge weight off our shoulders, we could breathe again knowing she was with us, and we would never let Him come within a hundred kilometers of her again.

A look of confusion suddenly crossed her face.

"Where's Georg?"

We all looked up at each other; we had been so wrapped up in the shock of finding her no one had thought to tell him she had been found.

"When your father-whoever that guy was left he was yelling to your unc- the other guys over there to "move it, there's no time to grab anything, they found us out, we have to leave"," Gustav said. "So I told him to call the police. Who were those guys anyway?"

"The same people who abducted us in the first place," I told him. I could tell she didn't want to talk about them. She freaked out enough when reminded how they restrained her, talking about them would've driven her insane.

After a few beats of silence Georg knocked on the door and let himself in. I stood up, still holding Veronica in my arms which was very easy to do considering she was just skin and bones now. He looked first at Bill and Gustav sitting on the floor, then up at Veronica and me. Seemingly calmly, he walked up to us and took her out of my arms. He stood holding her, in shock that she was really there, as the rest of us were.

When he finally gave her back to me, I walked over to the large sofa two feet away and sat down with her in my lap. The others followed almost immediately, sitting next to us and pulling up chairs in front of us.

"What's gonna happen to them now?" she asked to no one in particular.

"Well, hopefully the police will catch them, and throw them in prison for the rest of eternity," Bill said.

"In solitary confinement," added Georg.

"Where they can slowly go insane," Gustav finished.

I would've added more to their response, but I was too preoccupied looking at Veronica's angelic face. She seemed to be comforted by the idea of those monsters being locked away for good. Sensing my eyes on her, she looked up at me and smiled that smile I had been dreaming of for so long. After sitting in silence except for our breathing, there was a weird groaning sound that seemed to come from the small person in my lap.

"Was that your stomach?" I asked her.

"If you remember correctly, they didn't feed me very often," was her somewhat joking response, but none of us found it funny.

"Do you want to order something?"

"Please!" her response was almost immediate. Now we all laughed.

Gustav got up from his chair and ordered several pizzas from the restaurant around the corner. He left soon after to pick them up. He seemed sad that he would miss out on the conversation we were bound to have about the past year, but he went without argument.

"So how did you end up in Russia when we were—taken in Italy?" Bill asked out of the blue.

"They didn't want anyone to find them, so they decided to leave for somewhere where no one cared what they did or who they said they were."

"It's weird that we ended up in the hotel right next to where you were-lucky, I should say," Georg threw in.

"Yeah, when I first saw you guys over here, I wanted to scream out in joy. I would've, too if I ever had a moment alone."

"They never left you alone?" I asked. They left us in rooms by ourselves all the time.

"Never. They were too afraid I would call the police or escape or something. They even had someone in my room at night when they wanted me to sleep."

Now that I thought about it, I always did see someone in her room at night. Sometimes they got in the bed with her. Those were the nights I tried not to think about.

"What about those two months I talked to you?"

"I was supposed to be 'working' a stoner party. They always passed out by the time I got there, so I talked to you."

Gustav came back in the room with four boxes of pizza just then, Veronica looking up with an anxious look in her eyes. I stood up, still holding her, as Gustav got plates out of the cabinet.

"Tom, you can put me down now," she said.

As soon as I released her, she practically sprinted to the pizza and grabbed two slices, throwing them on a plate. By the time the rest of us got up to get our first slices, she was grabbing another two. I had a feeling this would be going on for quite a while.


	8. Home at last

~*~Three months later ~*~

We'd returned to Germany two weeks after Veronica had revealed herself to us. Bill had volunteered to stay with our mother and step father so Veronica wouldn't be overwhelmed with the three of us all living in one small apartment. She refused to go back to her apartment because she was so terrified of being alone. However, she didn't sleep in my bed with me. She would only sneak in on nights when there was a storm or something else outside that was creeping her out. At first she was a bit apprehensive about snuggling on the couch with me when we watched a movie or something, but she was slowly getting back into that habit and letting me hold her closer for longer periods of time. I was taking her to a therapist, one that specialized in abduction/ abuse/ rape victims, which seemed to be helping a lot.

The men who had been holding her captive were still hiding somewhere in that small town in Russia. The police stationed on the outskirts of the town were absolutely positive none of them had tried to cross into a neighboring city and the detectives were still taking their time inspecting each and every building from top to bottom. That didn't stop Veronica from being terrified of every stranger that we passed on the street, when she did leave the apartment. When we did she would stay attached to my, keeping a safe distance from everyone we walked past. There were certain things that would just set her off no matter where we were that would send her into a screaming, crying, petrified rampage. These gradually decreased as she saw her therapist and took the medicine he prescribed. Some things at night would still set her off, though. Especially the nightmares….

**Veronica's P.O.V.**

I cracked open the door quietly and leaned my head in. Tom was facing the opposite direction of me, but I wasn't sure if he was asleep or awake.

"Tom? Are you awake?" I asked in a soft voice. I wasn't sure, but I thought I saw him turn his head just the slightest bit. "Tomi?"

He turned his head around to look at me; he was wide awake. I was close enough to see the emotions in his eyes- confusion, surprise, and happiness. There seemed to be happiness in his eyes every time he looked at me, now that he knew I was safe. But there was always fear in me, no matter what I was doing, even if I knew in my head I was safe my heart told me to be afraid. Despite the confusion he felt, he smiled at me and propped himself up on one elbow.

"What's wrong?" he asked, slightly furrowing his eyebrows together.

"I-I can't sleep. Can I stay with you?"

His smile turned into a grin. "Of course," he said, patting the spot on the bed next to him.

I cautiously tip toed my way over to him and laid down close to him on my side. He pulled the quilt over the two of us and settled down next to me, wrapping his arm around my waist and filled the already microscopic space between us. I don't know if he noticed, but he always pulled me a little tighter than necessary. But I didn't mind; I liked it. After spending over a year and a half apart from him and two months so close yet unable to touch him, I savored any close contact from him I could get. Even if it made the bruises and burns hurt more.

I pressed my fore head against his chest and snuggled next to his warm body. I closed my eyes, inhaling his scent that was so familiar yet I hadn't been close enough to sense for so long. I felt him gently turn his head to softly kiss my temple before he squeezed me just a little tighter for one moment.

"I missed you," he whispered softly in my ear.

I opened my eyes a little and smiled. "I missed you, too," I said just as softly, then sighed, "I love you."

Tom leaned away from me and tilted my chin up with his hand so I was looking directly at him in the faint moon light coming in through the window. The surprise and confusion was gone from his eyes, now there was just the happiness as well as the undying adoration that was always there when he heard me say those words. He leaned down and touched his lips to mine in a soft, but lengthy peck. Strangely, it didn't make me feel afraid like I thought it first would.

"I love you, more than any words in any language can possibly say," he said, looking straight into my eyes. When Tom looked at me that way, and said those words so sincerely, there was not one ounce of fear in me. When he looked in my eyes and said those words, I felt wrapped in the safe, quiet world I had always gone to when I was alone with him.

He tightened his grip on my waist as he rolled onto his back, pulling me on top of him. I rested the side of my face on my overlapping hands while looking up at his face as he moved his hand gently up and down my back. The soft rhythm of his breathing and heartbeat, combined with him caressing my back was lulling me to the gentle world of sleep that I had been deprived of for so long. Just as I slipped into sweet unconsciousness, I felt Tom kiss my forehead one more time before I fell asleep.

Smoke. There was smoke everywhere. I tried to get up, tried to run, but something was holding me down. I tried to look around, but all I could see was the smoke. I tried to scream, but couldn't find my voice. It was getting harder and harder to breathe as I panicked. Through the smoke I could see His silhouette standing over me.

"I told you I'd bring you home," He said in his dark voice along with his menacing laugh.

I finally found my voice and began to scream at the top of my lungs. I tried even harder to break free from whatever was holding me down.

"Veronica? Veronica, wake up," I could suddenly hear Tom's voice in the distance.

I opened my eyes to find myself in Tom's room, on the bed. Tom was sitting up on his knees next to me. I threw my arms around his neck the instant I saw him. I sobbed into his chest uncontrollably. He immediately wrapped his comforting arms around my shaking body.

"It's OK. It was only a dream. I'm right here," he whispered in my ear trying to soothe me.

"He'll never leave me alone," I choked out through rough sobs. I felt Tom's body tighten around me.

"Yes, he's gone now. He can't hurt you anymore. He'd have to go through every person in this building and me twice before he could get ten kilometers from you."

As time passed, my sobs turned to silent tears. He never let go of me once the entire two hours we sat on his bed with me cradled in his lap. When at last I could be silent, I glanced over at the clock and realized it was almost four in the morning. I looked up at Tom, expecting him to have fallen asleep, but found him wide awake, looking down at me with sympathetic eyes.


	9. At least one of us can sleep

Veronica looked up at me with such fear in her large eyes, I could feel it radiating off of her. She turned her head down, away from me.

"How can you stand to be around me?" she whispered. "How can you put up with all my childish phobias?"

"Because I've wanted nothing but to hold you like this since the moment we were a meter apart. Because I know exactly how you feel. Because even though you're terrified of most things, you're still adorable no matter what."

I tilted her face up so she was looking at me again.

"Because I love you; and no thing, no fear, no body is ever going to change that."

A faint smile formed on her lips at those words. I laid her down on the mattress next to me and lay down beside her. Even though I had hardly slept once in the past two years, I was exhausted now. She reached up to wrap her arms around my neck. I closed my eyes, burying my face in her hair. I realized then that for the entire time I'd seen her in the past two months she had been wearing long sleeves. Even to bed, which she never did unless she wore shorts; which she didn't do now and I bet she hadn't done in a while.

"Why do you always wear long sleeves and pants now?" I asked her softly.

"It's winter," she said. The fact that that wasn't the only reason was obvious in her voice.

"Yeah, but it wasn't cold two months ago, and it's not that cold in here."

I could feel her stiffen next to me.

"If you saw the scars, you'd understand," was all she said.

"Then let me see them."

"I can't," her voice was growing softer and softer with every word.

Gently pushing her back, I looked at her face.

"Veronica, you trust me, right?"

She nodded her head in response.

"If you can't show them to me, who can see them? You can't hide them forever."

Knowing I was right, she released her arms from my neck and laid down in surrender. Sitting up, I stroked her cheek a few times with my hand. She looked scared, but showed no sign of resist.

"No matter what your body looks like, I'll always love you the same as I always have." That seemed to reassure her a little bit.

I slowly lifted the thin shirt from her small torso. What lied beneath it was horrific enough to turn a black cat white. Almost every visible part of her body was covered in ugly scars. Some still faint scabs, other were old and healed over, but still visible where they crisscrossed. They were such a shock to see after getting to know her as the beautiful, flawless person I had come to know. The burns were the worst part. They were huge and dark and I could still see the glimmer of their flame on her skin.

I looked at her sorrowful expression, turned away from me. Her long arms were raised above her head on the pillow, where they had fallen when I pulled her shirt off. Looking back down at her body, one noticeably large mark ringing her waist and continuing under her sweatpants caught my attention. Tugging lightly at the waistband, I slowly pulled them off, watching Veronica's face the entire time. Her face remained turned towards the window, but her eyes watched me out of their corners. When I pulled my eyes away from hers, the sight that greeted me was even more terrifying then what as above it. The scar that had first drawn my attention dripped, literally, down her legs in thick paths down to her knees. The look on my face must have tipped her off on my shock.

"Acid," she whispered.

_No_. How could someone be so cold as to pour acid on someone so innocent, so small and defenseless? In the back of my mind, I could hear her screaming for mercy, but her cries being acknowledged by no one.

Instinctively, I crawled back up to where her face was and hugged her around her torso; she barely moved. Sensing the moisture coming from her eyes, I laid her back on the bed. Seeing the tears falling stirred a wave of anger in me; how could anybody even think of harming that perfect face?

"How did I not notice this that one night…," I wondered out loud.

"Make up can do wondrous things," she said with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

God, I felt like an idiot. Even in that dim light I should've been able to tell something was off.

"None of what happened was your fault," I told her.

She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly.

"I should've left sooner," she said softly.

"It wasn't your fault," I repeated.

She opened her eyes, still looking to the window.

"If I'd left I wouldn't be so ugly now."

I picked up her small hand from the pillow. It looked do small and delicate in my hand. I stroked the soft skin of the backs of her fingers with my thumb. I had always loved the way they looked so child-like and yet could work magic on anything she touched. Even now, with the scars, they still had something about them that just made you want to hold them forever. I brought the back of her hand to my lips and kissed it ever so softly. Then I moved to each of her fingertips, her palm, her wrist, her forearm to the crook of her elbow. I continued upwards to her shoulder, then over to her collarbone. I could feel her heart beat quicken the slightest bit.

"You are everything ugly is not," I breathed on her skin.

Tilting my head up, I started kissing and sucking on her neck. I could feel the air rushing in and out of her throat.

"Tom-," she breathed. I took it as a _'Please don't stop.'_ I was way off. "Tom- please- stop."

I immediately lifted my face to look at hers. With one arm still lying limp above her head and the other still held in my hand, she laid there, frozen in place with a helpless and scared expression on her face.

"Veronica, I'm sorry. I got carried away."

She closed her eyes as her limbs started shaking and recoiled into her body. She looked as though she was in pain.

"Veronica, please look at me," she continued to shake as gruesome memories flashed through her mind.

Doing the only thing I could think of, I placed my hand on both of her hers, stroking her face with my other.

"Dear my love, haven't you wanted to be with me and; Dear my love, haven't you longed to be free?" I started softly singing one of her favorite songs, one she always said reminded her of the two of us.

By the time I got to the second chorus, she had stopped shaking and was once again turned toward me with her arms wrapped around my neck. By now we were both exhausted, and I fell asleep as I finished saying the last line of the bridge.


	10. How does it feel?

I didn't sleep at all that night. I hadn't slept a wink in almost two years. I was too afraid of the nightmares coming back like they always did when I managed to drift into sleep. I just laid next to Tom all night curled into his side. Sometimes I whispered things to him while he slept, about what I went through while we were apart; things I was too ashamed to tell him when he was awake. The truth was I was afraid he'd be disgusted by the things I'd done and wouldn't be able to have me around anymore. Then he would leave me and I'd have no one, and that scared me more than the thought of Him finding me again.

Tom woke up at around noon. I felt him stretch his legs as he yawned. He opened his eyes slowly.

"Good morning," he said with a kiss on my forehead.

"Morning," I said.

"What time is it?"

"Almost noon."

"How does lunch before Dr. Ozera sound?"

"Sounds like a plan."

We got out of bed to get ready for the day. While Tom took a quick shower I dressed myself in my usual jeans and a light blue turtle neck. It was only early winter, so I wouldn't too out of place but I still missed wearing short sleeves. I missed the sun on my skin, going to the ocean, buying seasonal clothes. But I was so afraid of how people would react to all the scars. Most of the nurses and doctors who I saw still looked at me in horror. One elderly nurse who hadn't been filled in on the situation loudly accused Tom of being an abusive boyfriend.

My hand brushed over the Swastika brand mark as I adjusted my undershirt and a sadness filled me. Before I had come home I had promised myself to have something done about it as soon as possible, but when the doctors finally examined me all their poking and prodding scared me out of the idea. They had to hold me down at sedate me just to get blood samples. I knew the other guys had their burns taken care of a long time ago, probably as soon as they were found at the hospital, but Tom still had his. He said he was waiting for me to have mine taken care of before he did anything to his.

"_Besides_," he always said, "_I won't feel free until I know you are_."

When we were done getting dressed we headed out to our favorite café not far from my therapist. I ordered my usual sandwich (as I learned from my therapist, I subconsciously avoided foods that required a knife or fork because their sharp and pointed edges triggered bad memories for me) and Tom ordered an omelet. We had yet another conversation about possibly adopting a cat. I'd been wanting to adopt one for a very long time, and I think he was almost at his breaking point. He'd never been able to say no to me anyway.

When we were done eating we started walking toward Dr. Ozera's office. As we were walking past a small store we heard arguing from inside. It was between two men, and one of them had a Russian accent. Tom grabbed my hand when he heard it and started talking louder. The fight moved on to the sidewalk and the men started pushing each other. Just as we were passing by the man with the accent was pushed into me and started grabbing at me to maintain his balance. Tom pried him off me, but it was too late; I was already shaking and images were flashing through my head.

Tom pulled me into an ally and pulled my anti-anxiety pills from his pants pocket. He handed me one which I swallowed instantly. I was hyperventilating and pacing rapidly now and all my thought were blurring and racing together. As the medicine kicked in my thoughts slowed to normal and I stopped pacing. Now I was just standing there with my arms crossed over my chest and breathing kind of hard. Tom put his hands on my shoulders telling me everything was ok. Finally I was calm enough to continue walking. Tom embraced me for a minute and gently kissed my temple before we left the ally.

"Let's go see Tasha," he said as we walked down the sidewalk.

We were a couple of minutes late so the receptionist told me to go right in. I sat down on the old green couch across from Dr. Ozera. She smiled sweetly at me as she sat down.

"Hello Veronica," she said.

"Hi."

"How have you been this week?"

"Fine, I still can't sleep."

"Have you tried the sleep aid I prescribed?"

"No." I hadn't touched them at all, actually.

"I know you're afraid of the dreams, but you will feel better if you get more sleep. And the nightmares will stop as long as we continue working through these fears, ok?"

I nodded in response.

"Good. How did your day start?"

"I stayed with Tom in his bed last night. I fell asleep and had another nightmare."

"What was this one about?"

"There was smoke everywhere and I couldn't move," I said recalling the chilling details.

"Was there anyone else in this dream?"

"Yeah, Him." Dr. Ozera knew everything about Him and the other men who'd abducted us.

"What did He say?"

"'I told you I'd bring you home'."

"What did he mean by 'home'?"

"Russia, I guess. That's where he kept me for a year and a half."

"In the past we've talked about what he physically made you do, today we're going to talk about what was going on in your head as this was going on," she explained.

"Like what?"

"When you were in the brothel, what were thinking about? What were you feeling?"

"Scared, vulnerable, small." Talking about how I felt was harder than talking about what happened.

"Was that when you were alone or when someone was there with you?"

"Both. I always felt like that when I had to— entertain men."

"What did you think about when this was happening?"

"I tried to think of times when I was with my friends."

"Sometimes when people are being assaulted like that they try to imagine being with their significant other. Did you ever try that?"

"No, because then I would start seeing Tom in their faces, and he would never treat me like that."

"Treat you like what?"

"Like, tie me to the bed posts and force himself on me. Make me say how much I liked it when really I hated it. Then let his pals take turns with me then use me as a piñata while calling me fucking whore!"

"How did that make you feel?"

"Like a dirty slut."

"And why is that?"

"If it looks like a duck and quacks like one…"

"Do you think you're a slut?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I never wanted it; I only did what they told me so they wouldn't hurt me. I've never believed in one night stands, Tom and I never got that far. Now we probably never will."

"Why do you think that?"

"I can't be around people without having a panic attack. I can't kiss my boyfriend for more than a second with out having a flashback. I can't look at myself in the mirror without being disgusted at how my body looks. Until last night Tom hadn't even seen what I've become."

"And what did he say?"

"That I am 'everything ugly is not'."

"Sounds like he doesn't care about the scars. Sounds like he only cares about you."

"He does. That's why I didn't want him to see them."

"I don't understand."

"I don't want him to be sad, so I don't want him to see the scars."

"He has scars, too. Why do you think he's not worried about people seeing his?"

"Because he tolerates having his scars."

"Is that why you're not worried about his scars?"

"I guess."

"Maybe if you felt more comfortable with your body, he wouldn't worry about them so much either."

I just sat there staring at my hands.

"Maybe you would feel more comfortable about yourself as well. When you're at home don't wear the long sleeves, just walk around in a tank top. When you feel more comfortable with that, start wearing shorts instead of jeans; ok?"

"I'll try."

"Good; our time is up now, so I'll see you next week."

I walked out to the lobby where Tom was waiting. He stood up and smiled when I approached him.

"How'd it go?" he asked casually, even though I knew he was eager to hear of any progress.

"Good," I said as we walked out the door.


	11. One step at a time

We walked home hand in hand on a less crowded part of the sidewalk. Tom tried to talk to me, but I was thinking about what I'd talked about just now with Dr. Ozera. I really didn't like the idea of showing off my scars; even if it was just Tom, I was too embarrassed by them. I thought about how when it wasn't too cold Tom wore his usual over sized t- shirts. Even though the sleeves covered most of his arms, he wasn't embarrassed by the scars that did show; and he still slept in just his sweatpants or underwear. He really wasn't afraid of his scars so he didn't really try to hide them. I just wasn't sure if I would have that same kind of strength.

"Helloooo?" his voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

"Huh?" I said confused.

"I said 'do you want to stop for something to eat?'."

"Oh; yeah, sure."

We entered a small ice cream parlor that was completely empty (which wasn't surprising since it was December). I got cookie dough and Tom got lemon sorbet. We sat outside the shop to eat our food.

"What were you thinking about that distracted you so much?" he asked.

"Stuff Dr. Ozera said," I said trying to make it sound casual.

"Like what? What did you talk about today?"

"What I thought about when I was away."

"Anything else?"

"She said I should not wear long sleeves when I'm at home," I said after a lengthy pause.

"Are you?" he asked, trying to hide his enthusiasm.

"I don't know," I half mumbled.

"Why not? It'll be good for your recovery."

"I'm embarrassed by them."

Tom put down his sorbet and picked up my hand in both of his.

"I know you are, and the way I reacted to them last night probably didn't help; but the sooner you can get over these fears the faster our lives can return to normal."

"I know," I said weakly.

He stood up, pulling me with him.

"Then let's head home and start getting back to normal."

We finished our ice cream on the way home, getting many strange looks from people. We weren't far from home and arrived in minutes. Tom helped me out of my coat when we walked in the door before removing his.

"I have a web cam meeting with some producers soon, so I'll be in the office if you need me," he said with a kiss on the side of my face.

With that, he disappeared to the small room where he and Bill kept all their instruments and recording equipment. I stood in the front room wondering what to do. I wandered to the guest room which was where I kept all of my stuff. Looking at my clothes, I noted almost all of my tops had long sleeves. I pulled a thick black and red flannel shirt I'd stolen from Tom from a hanger. I tossed it on the bed then stood in front of the full length mirror on the wall. I rolled up my sleeves and looked at my arms. They were layered with scars and other marks from various kinds of abuse and manhandling; I could hardly look at them. And I was expected to walk around showing off my whole body? Just the idea of it scared me. But, if it did help me move on faster, the sooner the better.

Turning away from the mirror, I pulled my turtle neck over my head leaving me in a plain white undershirt. I quickly pulled on the flannel shirt which covered most of me, but left my collar bone exposed (which also had numerous marks on it). I kept my eyes down and walked back out to the living room. I turned on the T.V. to Spongebob Squarepants to watch. I tried to focus on the show, but a thick stack of paper neatly filed in a manila folder on the coffee table kept distracting me. It was a complete copy of the file on our case from the day we had been abducted. Tom had read it obsessively while I was gone; he still read it now sometimes and suggested I read it to fill in missing information. I really wanted to, but I was too afraid to face the past. All I was able to do was fill out simple reports with basic information about how I was doing now.

Tom suddenly walked out of the office and sat down on the couch next to me.

"Hey—nice shirt," he said sarcastically.

"Thanks," I replied just as farcical.

He stared at me for some minutes, but not at my face.

"What?"

"You have a sexy collarbone," he said bluntly.

"What are you talking about?" I asked as I felt myself blushing.

"And you're really cute when you blush."

"Stop it," I giggled.

"Why should I?" He asked raising an eye brow and pulling his mouth into a smirk. He also simultaneously moved his body closer to me.

"Because," I said, leaning back.

"That's not a reason," he said as he moved even closer.

"So what?"

"Your shoulders are quite tantalizing as well," he carried on. He continued to inch closer to me as he spoke.

"What of it?" I was also continuously creeping backwards.

"Just thought I'd mention it."

This playful banter continued until I was sitting on the arm rest and he was sitting next to me. In one swift move he grabbed me by my waist and pulled me onto his lap. He leaned his forehead against mine and closed his eyes, sighing deeply.

"I thought you were going to _stop_ wearing long sleeves," he said against the side of my face.

"I'll get there, I'm going slowly."

"How slow? One inch of skin at a time?" he teased.

"If that's what it takes," I mumbled.

He sighed again and picked his head up from my face to look at me.

"No one's going to see you here but me. You already know I don't care about what your skin looks like. If you want we can cover all the mirrors until you're ready to look at them, but sometimes baby steps are too small."

As he was speaking he slid the flannel shirt off of me, tossing it behind the couch. I automatically crossed my arms over my chest in a weak attempt to cover some of the scars. He pulled my arms down and placed them on my legs, resting his over them.

"How do you know it'll happen that fast?" I asked.

"I don't, but we can still try; if you're willing to," he said as he looked into my eyes. "Are you?"

Showing my scars was the last thing I wanted to do, but I knew I had to be strong and get through it. I wanted to move on and have a life so much it hurt. And it was unfair to Tom that he had to put up with it all.

"Yes."

And so began the restarting of my life with Tom.

**Note: fear not, the story does not end here **** there is still quite a ways to go**


	12. Time to face the the truth aka the past

True to his word, Tom covered every mirror in the apartment with sheets. I kept my promise and stopped wearing long sleeves when we were home. At first I would unknowingly cover myself with blankets or jackets, but as time progressed I began to stop noticing my scars. Adjusting to wearing shorts was just as awkward, but I was able to get past that too. Eventually we uncovered some of the smaller mirrors, but I still couldn't look at the full length ones. It was now the beginning of spring and Tom and I were walking through a park. I was wearing knee length denim cut- offs and a light blue cami. We were lying on a blanket in the grass watching the clouds blow past.

"Does that one look like an angry bulldog or is it just me?" I asked pointing at a cloud.

"It's just you," Tom said.

"Well, you're looking at it sideways," I defended.

"So?" he said, as he tickled my side causing me to squirm with giggles.

"Meanie," I said accusingly.

He just scoffed and rolled his eyes. We laid there for a while, both of us worlds away in our heads.

"It's been almost two years, hasn't it," Tom said solemnly.

"It'll be exactly two years in four days."

The anniversary of the day we were first abducted. None of us liked to admit it, but it was a truth we couldn't avoid.

"Have you read any of the old case files yet?"

"No."

"You should; makes it seem more like fiction than reality," he said as he put his hands under his head and closed his eyes. "Makes the memories seem more like bad dreams when you write them down."

"I know, talking about it with Tasha has helped a lot."

"You should ask her if you can borrow her tapes from your sessions. Listening to yourself tell about what happened makes it easier to give more details."

"I'm guessing that's what you did?"

"Yeah, I think I still have mine somewhere at home. I've listened to them a hundred times, but there's still information that I don't get."

"You were pretty out of it those first few days."

"Do you think you could fill in some of the blanks for me?"

"I guess I could try."

Honestly, talking about it once with Dr. Ozera was enough; I really didn't want to hear about what happened again. Especially what Tom went through personally, it would be too heart- wrenching.

"If you think you're ready to listen to them, that is. I don't want to push you into anything you don't think you're ready for."

"I didn't think I'd ever wear shorts again, but look at me now!"

He chuckled at my remark. Then he turned his body so he was facing me, looking at me seriously.

"Are you sure you're ready to listen to them? They get pretty emotional," he warned.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

When we got home we both sat in the office where the tapes and tape player were. Tom pulled one of a box of about three dozen.

"This is my first session with Tasha," he said as he put the tape in the player. "This was a couple of days after we were found."

_Dr. Ozera: Hello Tom._

_Tom: Hi._

He sounded very shaken up on the tape.

_Dr. Ozera: You seem nervous; can you tell me why?_

_Tom: Because of what he did._

_Dr. Ozera: Who?_

_Tom: I don't know! But he has her and nobody cares! Why are people wasting their time worrying about me when she's the one who needs help right now!_

_Dr. Ozera: Who does he have?_

_Tom: My girlfriend, Veronica. He has her and he's probably hurting her right now and no one's trying to find her!_

_Dr. Ozera: Why do you think He's hurting her?_

_Tom: Because he already has._

_Dr. Ozera: How?_

_Tom: He hit her; over and over and over! It drove me crazy! Why did He have to do that? She never hurt anyone, she didn't deserve it._

_Dr. Ozera: Is that the only way he hurt her?_

_Tom: No, He made her watch us get hit, too. She hates seeing people got hurt._

_Dr. Ozera: What did she do when He hit you?_

_Tom: She cried, a lot. And screamed. She was so upset._

_Dr. Ozera: Did he hurt her any other way?_

_Tom: Yes_

_Dr. Ozera: How?_

_Tom: *silent*_

_Dr. Ozera: Tom, I can't help you if you don't talk._

_Tom: *mumbles*_

_Dr. Ozera: I can't understand you, please speak up._

_Tom: *quietly, but angrily* He touched her._

_Dr. Ozera: Where?_

_Tom: Where do you think? He touched her where no woman should be touched against their will! The bastard fucking touched her and - *starts crying softly*_

_Dr. Ozera: How do you know He did those things?_

_Tom: He made us watch. He made us get down on our knees and watch him rape her._

_Dr. Ozera: Why did He do that?_

_Tom: Because she refused to let anyone else die._

_Dr. Ozera: I don't understand._

_Tom: She had to choose between someone being killed or letting him- *resumes crying*_

_Dr. Ozera: How did that make you feel?_

_Tom: *sniffle* Pissed, upset, disgusted, like a fucking idiot._

_Dr. Ozera: Why do you say that?_

_Tom: I should've done something; I should've stopped him. _

_Dr. Ozera: Do you feel responsible for that happening?_

_Tom: Kind of._

_Dr. Ozera: Why?_

_Tom: If she had picked me, He wouldn't have done that to her. She would be free right now._

_Dr. Ozera: How do you think she would've felt if you had died?_

_Tom: Heartbroken_

_Dr. Ozera: Maybe she was trying to protect you?_

_Tom: I guess._

_Dr. Ozera: You did very well today. I'll see you in a couple of days._

Tom popped the tape out of the player. Moisture was building in my eyes; he sounded so distressed there.

"That was the worst one out of all of them," he said reassuringly. "This one is from six months later."

He put another tape into the player and hit the play button.

_Dr. Ozera: How are you today, Tom?_

_Tom: I'm fine. _

_Dr. Ozera: Have you been sleeping better?_

_Tom: I guess._

_Dr. Ozera: You guess?_

_Tom: It comes fast, ends too soon. I don't feel any different in the morning._

_Dr. Ozera: No different at all?_

_Tom: If anything I feel worse. I just feel like I dozen off, not actually slept. _

_Dr. Ozera: That does sometimes happen when a person first starts taken the sleeping pills I prescribed. That feeling should wear off as you get more rest._

_Tom: If that's what you want to call it._

_Dr. Ozera: Let's move on to what the police are doing. Have they found anything new?_

_Tom: A few hairs._

_Dr. Ozera: From whom?_

_Tom: They don't know, but they think it's from the guys that took us._

_Dr. Ozera: That's good news. Do they have any idea where they went?_

_Tom: *angrily* No._

_Dr. Ozera: Do you have any idea where they might have gone?_

_Tom: No; if I did I would've told the police already._

_Dr. Ozera: How does not knowing make you feel?_

_Tom: Helpless._

_Dr. Ozera: What do you do to cope with that?_

_Tom: Sometimes it feels like I can't._

_Dr. Ozera: What do you do then?_

_Tom: Think about ending it all._

_Dr. Ozera: And why haven't you?_

_Tom: For Bill, he'd go crazy if I did. _

_Dr. Ozera: Is he the only reason?_

_Tom: I want to live to see those bastards get thrown in prison._

I turned off the tape player.

"Stop, just stop," I said, tears already starting to escape.

"Wait, there's just five more seconds I want you to hear," Tom said as he turned the player back on.

_Dr. Ozera: And?_

_Tom: *pause* And I want to know where Veronica is. I want her back. Even if they already- *sighs* I just miss her so much. _

He finally stopped the tape. He looked at me with chagrined eyes and pulled me close. I leaned my head against his chest, letting his shirt absorb my tears.

"I'm sorry if that was too much," he said softly.

I shook my head 'no'.

"It was the truth," I said weakly, "and it's about time I faced the truth."

"Which is?"

"That I have to face the past before I can move on."


	13. Try again

I asked Dr. Ozera for the tapes when I saw her the next day after giving her the same explanation Tom had given me. She eagerly agreed and put them in an empty shoe box. They were all labeled with my name and the date they were recorded. Before I left, she suggested I listen to them with Tom; both to lessen the emotional stress and so he could hear me tell what happened while I was away. When we got home with all the tapes we went straight to the office and sat down on the sofa. I pulled out a tape that was dated a couple of weeks after I began seeing Dr. Ozera.

_Dr. Ozera: Hello, Veronica._

_Veronica: Hi._

_Dr. Ozera: How have you been lately? _

_Veronica: Okay._

_Dr. Ozera: How are you adjusting to being at home again?_

_Veronica: Alright, I guess._

_Dr. Ozera: What do you mean by that?_

_Veronica: I still can't stand to have people too close to me._

_Dr. Ozera: Including Tom? _

_Veronica: *sigh* Yes._

_Dr. Ozera: Are you still sleeping in the other bed room?_

_Veronica: More like staring at the ceiling all night._

_Dr. Ozera: Still afraid of the nightmares?_

_Veronica: Yeah._

_ Dr. Ozera: How often do you leave the apartment?_

_Veronica: Only when I have to._

_Dr. Ozera: How often is that?_

_Veronica: Pretty much only when I come here, or go to the doctor again._

_Dr. Ozera: Speaking of the doctor, how did it go this week?_

_Veronica: Not good._

_Dr. Ozera: How so?_

_Veronica: They needed another blood sample._

_Dr. Ozera: Describe it. _

_Veronica: They needed one person to sit on my legs, one for each arm, and another to give me the tranquilizer._

_Dr. Ozera: Still on the tranquilizers?_

_Veronica: Yup._

_Dr. Ozera: Why do you think you won't let people near you?_

_Veronica: Because I was raped so many times._

_Dr. Ozera: About how many times?_

_Veronica: Hundreds, I guess._

_Dr. Ozera: What were those encounters like?_

_Veronica: I try not to think about it._

_Dr. Ozera: Try for me now._

_Veronica: They were bad._

_Dr. Ozera: Can you be more descriptive?_

_Veronica: Violent, painful, just awful._

_Dr. Ozera: Can you describe a specific time that was particularly "bad"?_

_Veronica: I'd rather not._

_Dr. Ozera: Try._

_Veronica: *long pause* One night I had to go to some pharm party a bunch of guys were having. They were all high by the time I got there._

_Dr. Ozera: What did they make you do?_

_Veronica: Take my clothes of in front of all of them and sit on a chair. It was rigged with restraints. They strapped me down._

_Dr. Ozera: What happened next?_

_Veronica: They walked in a circle around me, looking at me. They said things like "That's a nice one."; "This'll be a fun night."_

_Dr. Ozera: What did they do then?_

_Veronica: One of them stood in front of me. He touched me all over. His hands were course. And he kept saying how rough he was going to be with me._

_Dr. Ozera: Was he?_

_Veronica: *on the verge of tears* Very._

_Dr. Ozera: What sort of things did he do?_

_Veronica: Shoved his hands in me, choked me, put various other things in me. *sniffle* He made me say that I liked it and that he was the best I'd ever had and that I was his dirty slut._

_Dr. Ozera: Did any of the other people there touch you?_

_Veronica: Yes, they all did. _

_Dr. Ozera: Did they all do the same as the first man?_

_Veronica: Mm- hm. Some of them cut me with knives and injected me with stuff. One of them held a lighter to me skin while he was—yeah._

_Dr. Ozera: What made this particular incident so memorable?_

_Veronica: One of them had a beaker of acid, I don't know why. They started splashing it on me. It hurt so much._

_Dr. Ozera: It that how you got your big scar?_

_Veronica: One of the other guys bumped into him and spilled half of it on me. I felt like I was on fire._

_Dr. Ozera: What did they do when that happened?_

_Veronica: They put ice on me. When I stopped screaming, they – well, they did other things with the ice._

_Dr. Ozera: What happened when they were done?_

_Veronica: They let me out of the chair and told me to get dressed. Then He picked me up and brought me back to His apartment._

_Dr. Ozera: What did He do when you got there?_

_Veronica: Beat me._

I turned off the tape and looked at Tom. His eyes were all watery. I'd never told him what sort of things happened to me while I was gone.

"I had no idea," he said weakly.

"I didn't want you to know."

He pulled me into him comfortingly. I could feel moisture on the side of my face, but it wasn't coming from me. His body shook lightly with sobs.

"There was nothing you could've done," I said reassuringly.

"Why didn't you want me to know?"

"It's complicated."

He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and put on a forced smile.

"I've got time."

I closed my eyes in shame.

"I thought you would be disgusted with me," I said decrepitly.

Again he pulled me close to him and tilted my face upwards toward his.

"I would blame the entire rest of the world twice before I even thought about blaming you for anything that happened," he said with a light kiss upon my lips. "Part of why I love you is because you were resilient enough to survive all that's happened to you. You are one of the strongest people I know, and I'll always admire that about you. I just can't believe I didn't think about giving you space after—well, after all that had happened."

"Speaking of which, there's part of another tape I want you to hear," I said as I dug through the box.

I found the one I was looking for and popped it in the tape player. It was from a couple of weeks before this whole confrontation.

_Dr. Ozera: Good afternoon Veronica. _

_Veronica: Hello._

_Dr. Ozera: How are you today?_

_Veronica: Good._

_Dr. Ozera: You've shown a lot of improvement in the past few months._

_Veronica: I know._

_Dr. Ozera: How do you feel?_

_Veronica: Great._

_Dr. Ozera: That's very good. Are you and tome still having any issues at home?_

_Veronica: Yeah, a few._

_Dr. Ozera: Like what?_

_Veronica: Uhh, well—it's kind of—umm, embarrassing—_

_Dr. Ozera: Intimacy issues?_

_Veronica: *embarrassed chuckle* Yeah._

_Dr. Ozera: Can you tell me what they are?_

_Veronica: We can't really get—uh, hands on like we used to._

_Dr. Ozera: I thought you two never went "that far"._

_Veronica: Doesn't mean we didn't fool around._

_Dr. Ozera: *light giggle* So, nothing really past a little nuzzling?_

_Veronica: Pretty much._

_Dr. Ozera: When does it start to go sour?_

_Veronica: When it starts getting a little rowdy._

_Dr. Ozera: What do you do when that happens?_

_Veronica: I start having flashbacks again._

_Dr. Ozera: How does that make you feel?_

_Veronica: Like I'm letting him down. _

_Dr. Ozera: Why?_

_Veronica: Not counting while I was gone, we've been together for over a year; this is the longest relationship I've ever had. I love him—more than I thought I knew possible, and I know he feels the same way. When I was away, I missed him so much it physically hurt. I would wrap myself in heavy blankets and pretend it was him. I want to give him all of me, but I just can't get past the stupid flashbacks. It's not fair to Tom that I can never be romantic with him without have a breakdown._

_Dr. Ozera: Well, what about those other men made you fear them? _

_Veronica: They were rough and forceful and inflicted pain and humiliation on me._

_Dr. Ozera: What does Tom do that triggers those memories?_

_Veronica: He gets excited when it starts to heat up. _

_Dr. Ozera: Have you tried telling him to slow down?_

_Veronica: Like I said, it's embarrassing._

I stopped the tape there. When I looked up Tom's face was contorted with concentration.

"All those times, _I_ was making you have flashbacks," he said to himself. He looked at me remorsefully. "I'm so sorry, I didn't even think-."

"It wasn't your fault," I cut him off.

"Yes it was; if I'd been able to keep it in my pants for a little longer, I wouldn't have made you freak out like you did."

He put his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands at the end of his sentence. He felt so guilty, and for once I couldn't argue with him. I hated to admit it, but his actions were the direct cause of my freak outs in this case. I hugged him around his chest and rested my chin on his shoulder.

"But now you know why."

He turned his head slightly to look at me.

"So?"

"We can try again."

I released my hold on him as he sat up. He put both hands on my shoulders and looked me square in the eye.

"Are you absolutely sure you want to?"

I could see the hope in his eyes behind his sincerity. I nodded my head slowly several times. Then I resumed my embrace on his body, now placing my head under his chin leaning it against his neck. He returned my gesture by cradling my shoulders with one arm and wrapping his other around my waist. We sat like that for some minutes in a comfortable stillness.

"Did you really mean it?" he asked softly.

"Mean what?"

"How you feel about me; do you really mean it like that?"

"Yes, I do Tomi. I love you more than I can possibly fathom."

"And you really want me to be your first?"

"Uhh—first?" I scoffed.

"When I say first, I mean your first time making _love_; your first time without pain; your first time that feels good, that feels right. I've wanted nothing more than to show you how incredible love can feel since the day I realized I was truly in love with you."

The phone began to ring in the kitchen, but neither of us wanted to get up.

"That phone is killing our moment," I said in a sarcastically annoyed tone.

"Yeah, let's go see who's trying to ruin our romantic confessions," Tom said as we stood up.

We walked over to the phone and looked at the caller id. It was the police station. Tom hit the speaker button.

"Hello?" he said.

"Tom, it's the chief of police. I have wonderful news!" the voice on the other end said.

"What? What is it?" I asked.

"We've caught the men who kidnapped you!"


	14. Confrontation

~*~Tom's P.O.V. ~*~

We jumped into my car and sped off for the police station as soon as we hung up. Veronica texted the others to tell them the news. We waited in the parking lot for them to arrive before we all walked in together. When we did, the detective in charge of our case met us at the door.

"We caught them trying to sneak out of the town through a corn field," he informed us. "We identified them as the men who abducted you when we collected their fingerprints. We've been getting statements from them all day. We'll set up a trial date as soon as we can. In the mean time I suggest you all review your files and fill in as many details as you can."

"Are they here? In the building?" Georg asked. His girlfriend, Allie, slipped her hand into his and squeezed it comfortingly.

"Yes, but you guys don't have to see them right now," the detective said.

"Will we have to speak at the trial?" Veronica asked. I knew she was trying to hide the fear in her voice. I put my arm around her reassuringly.

"You don't have to, but it would give us a better advantage of getting a conviction," the detective explained.

"Wait, you're saying there's a chance you might _not_ convict them?" I said incredulously.

"Their lawyer is trying every possible way to get them sent anywhere but prison. Don't worry; we have enough evidence to prove otherwise. Especially when Veronica testifies-"

"Whoa, whoa; she never said she defiantly would testify," I interrupted.

"But if you do we'll put them away for sure."

"May I speak with you privately," I more demanded than asked.

We went to his office and shut the door.

"Are you seriously going to make her talk about every disgusting thing they made her do in front of that many people? It's taken her until just recently to tell me about it!"

"This seems a little backwards; weren't you always the one encouraging her to face her fears and move on. Don't you think seeing them get convicted would be a major confidence booster?"

"She's not ready to face them. If she sees them she will have a total meltdown and everything she has done to move past this will have been for nothing."

"Don't you mean what _you_ have done to get her past this?"

"Stop twisting my words," I said through clenched teeth. "Can't you submit the tapes from her therapy sessions and a written testimony instead of making her get up and talk about it?"

"Maybe, but we would have a much stronger argument is she could tell our defense attorney the details in person."

"Have you people even considered the emotional stress she would be under if she had to talk about what they did? Let alone be in the same room with them?"

The defense attorney entered the room at this point and took over the conversation.

"Tom, we have taken Veronica's emotional state into consideration, and with the progress she has made over the past six months we strongly believe she is ready to face these men."

"I'm sorry, but I must disagree. There are still small things that set her off and I really think it would be best if she didn't have to face them."

"She's a big girl, she can make her own decisions," the detective said.

"Why don't we go ask her what she wants?" the D.A. suggested.

The three of us walked back to where the others were sitting in the lobby. Veronica was sitting next to Allie. She looked more freaked out than when I'd left her; she was a little jumpy, couldn't stop looking around, and had a fearful and anxious look in her eyes. She instantly looked relieved when she saw me approaching and stood up to greet me.

"Veronica," the D.A. addressed her, "do you want to speak at the trial?"

She took a few minutes to ponder that question. I could tell she didn't want to for obvious reasons, but the part of her that was driven to move on wanted to say yes.

"This is a pretty big step; you really don't have to if you don't think you're ready," I told her.

She thought it over for a few more minutes.

"Can I see Him?" she asked suddenly.

"What?" I said in shock.

Even the D.A. seemed taken aback.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" she asked Veronica.

"If I can handle looking at Him I should be able to speak in front of him, right?"

I looked at the D.A. desperately. She looked at me with a '_what can I do about it?_' expression.

"Very well," she said. "Right this way."

We followed her to a small dark room with a window that looked into another similar room. The blinds were closed on the window and the intercom was turned off, but there was an uneasy feeling in the air when we entered the room. The D.A. slowly pulled up the blinds to reveal two officers interrogating a figure that was sitting at a table in the far corner turned away from us. Then she slowly turned up the volume on the intercom. My teeth ground themselves together in an attempt to contain my rage at the sound of his voice. I looked over Veronica as He spoke in a deep, raspy tone. She stood rigid, but seemingly with anger rather than fear.

"How do you feel?" I asked her.

"Pissed off; enraged," she said, her voice brimming with fury.

"Do you want to speak to Him?" the D.A. asked.

I shot her a look that said '_Are you nuts?'_ But Veronica unexpectedly looked calm and thoughtful.

"Yes."

The D.A. knocked on the door to the other room prior to opening the door.

"You have a visitor," she said, gesturing for Veronica to enter the room.

She walked slowly into the dimly lit room, fists clenched at her sides. At first He looked a bit confused; she had returned to a healthy slim instead of skin and bones after coming home and eating regularly again; her scars had begun to fade; she had gotten much tanner than she previously was; she stood with assurance and confidence rather than fear and apprehension. She was not the same person as she had been six months before.

"Remember me?" she said to Him.

A look of recognition appeared on his face along with a sly grin.

"Yes, I remember you. You were my play thing for quite a while, eh?" he said with an unsettling chuckle.

"Shut up," she said abruptly.

"Ooh, and you've found a bit of an attitude, have you?" He said as he began to stand.

"Sit," Veronica commanded.

He stared at her for a moment before sitting back in his chair. It was now that I noticed his hands and feet were chained together.

"I hope you've enjoyed your freedom, and all this human contact. Because after my testimony, you'll never see the light of day again."

"Please," he said, a smirk finding its way to his lips, "we both know you're too embarrassed to say anything about the past two years. Your boyfriend would probably leave you if he knew anything. Tell me; how many times a night do you wake up screaming?"

"He knows everything, and he's never loved me more," she said proudly. "I sleep peacefully all night and, as you can see, I'm not any more embarrassed than you are; at least for now."

"Lynn, you wouldn't say anything bad against you papa, would you?"

Her façade faltered only for a microsecond, but she stood her ground.

"I'm not afraid of you, and I will testify to all the sick and sadistic things you made me do. There won't be a dry eye in the court; your own lawyer will think you guilty."

"We shall see about that."

"Later, douche bag," she scoffed as she turned to leave.

He suddenly jumped up and lunged at her. She gasped and stumbled backwards towards the doorway. I sprang to her side while the police officers tackled him to the ground and forced him back in the chair. He was fighting against them when he noticed me.

"You will never lock me away! Your defense will crack and so will you," he yelled at us.

"Fuck you," I said as I ushered Veronica back into the other room.

I immediately pulled her into my arms, wrapping her in a tight embrace. She was shaken, but not totally freaked. I stood with her like that until she was able to breathe normally.

"Veronica, are you sure you want to testify against him," the D.A. asked sincerely.

"Yes," she said firmly, "I must."

The D.A. nodded approvingly at this.

"I'll let you know when the trial date is set, in the meantime I strongly advise you to review your case files and make sure you didn't leave out anything."

"I will," she promised.


	15. The whole truth

We hadn't made it out the door when I started to have second thoughts. Who was I kidding? I couldn't talk about what they'd done to me in front of that many people! I wasn't even sure how I'd talked to Him five minutes ago! I could tell Tom didn't want me to either.

"Tom," I said weakly as hr drove us home, "I don't know if I can do this."

His knuckles were white on the steering wheel and he had tension written all over his face.

"I know; I have my own doubts."

"What does that mean?" I asked incredulously. You don't think I can?"

He was silent but his thoughts were written across his expression.

"Why is it so hard to believe that I might be able to do this?"

"Because I've seen how you react to loud noises and sudden sounds and—the smell of booze; I know you want to take a stand and put this behind you, but maybe this is one thing you don't have to do yourself."

"But I won't be by myself; will I?

"No, the rest of us will be telling our stories as well," he said hesitantly.

"Then why can't I?"

It was silent in the car for the next several kilometers. Tom kept his eyes on the road and wore a look of frustration. The closer we got to home, though, the more his face softened.

"I just don't want you to get hurt," he said quietly.

"I'm not going to; there's nothing they can do to me now that can possibly hurt me."

"I'm being way too overprotective, aren't I?"

"Just a bit."

We pulled into the parking lot in front of the apartment. He sighed as he tuned off the car.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it. It's just-" he stared off into space trying to find the right words, "I'm so afraid of losing you again. All I dreamed about when you were gone was them taking you from me. Seeing you in the same room as Him terrifies me. You should testify against them, if you really think you should."

"I can, and I will," I said firmly.

He nodded slowly.

"We should both brush up on our facts, then."

We walked inside and went straight to the living room. Tom picked up the manila folder and sat next to me on the couch. He opened the file and we began to read;

_Date: April 27, 2008_

_Name: Tom Kaulitz_

_Case Description:_

_My friends and I were abducted four days ago by a group of men in Italy. They were out for revenge for the death of their leader's wife and daughter. They physically and mentally abused us everyday. The hardest part was watching them hurt my girlfriend. On the fourth day they let four of us go. They kept my girlfriend. I'm really worried about her._

"That was the first report I wrote when we were found," Tom said.

"You didn't write much," I observed.

"I was still in shock and under very heavy medication," he said matter–of–factly. "I didn't start filling in actual details until a few weeks later."

_Date: May 18, 2008_

_Name: Tom Kaulitz_

_Case Description:_

_I have seven fractures and four bruised muscles. I had to get a total of 59 stitches over my entire body. I can't sleep because every part of me is sore. I have horrible nightmares every night that also prevent me from sleeping. I'm supposed to be writing about what specifically happened, but I don't feel comfortable talking about it yet. We started seeing a shrink, Dr. Ozera. She's nice, but I hate when she makes me talk about things that happened._

The next few were much more descriptive.

_Date: June 8, 2008_

_Name: Tom Kaulitz_

_Case Description:_

_The officer says I have to start writing about what happened now. I still don't like talking about it, but here it goes:_

_ On April 23__rd__, 2008, my brother Bill, our two friends Georg Listing and Gustav Schafer, and my girlfriend Veronica Oswell were abducted from an interview in Genoa, Italy. They spiked our coffee and used chloroform on Veronica and threw us in separate vans. When the drugs wore off, we were in an old warehouse bound and gagged on the floor. The leader of the group told us about how his wife had been killed on a trip to Germany and his daughter killed herself while listening to one of our songs; he blamed us for their deaths. We all were forced to watch as he beat Veronica to a pulp. She was so terrified. When he was done with her, he moved on to my brother and me. He ordered her to tell him which of us was younger, but she refused to tell him in order to protect us. We both insisted we were the older brother, and he ended up pulling me out. Bill charged at him as I was about to be struck in the head with a thick pipe. He first struck my brother with it, then he beat me around my chest and back with it. Never in my life have I been so terrified._

Each report went on to describe every agonizing day in full detail. Some of them almost made me sick to my stomach. The one from our last day in their captivity was really heart-wrenching.

_Date: September 19, 2009_

_Name: Tom Kaulitz_

_Case Description:_

_ Dr. Ozera says I can't put off talking about the last night any more. That was the night Veronica was raped. The Ringleader made her choose between having one of us killed or Him raping her. She said she could never sentence anyone to die, so he grabbed her. He hit her with her belt and told her to be quiet before he started. He told us that if we made any noise he'd kill us. It was so hard to sit there and watch him take her while she looked so afraid and helpless. She was a virgin; she had wanted to wait to have sex which was why we were waiting. Just to torment us, He made her look at us when he was done. She looked so humiliated. I wanted nothing more than to tear Him apart and give him a taste of his own medicine ten fold. Not a day goes by when I don't think about that night and what I should've done to stop that from happening._

"Can I even count the number of times I've told you there's nothing you could've done to change that night?" I asked.

"I doubt it; but you know I'll always think there was. I'm just glad I still have you, knowing what could've happened." He countered.

We continued reading the files, some from the other guys, until we'd gone over every detail of the past two years. It was hard, but we pushed our way through it. We also wrote out what we planned to say in court and continuously revising them until they said exactly what we wanted to say. We weren't done until late at night, but we finally felt ready to face them. All there was left to do was wait for our day in court.


	16. New evidence

~*~*Tom's P.O.V.*~*~

The trial date was set for a week after the men had been brought in. The other men were all convicted prior to today. We all arrived at the court house to meet with our attorneys an hour before hand to go over the procedures of the trial. It would go something like this: We would all enter with our lawyers and be seated at one table; the Ringleader would then be led into the room with his lawyer and be seated on the opposite side of the room from us. None of us really knew how we would feel with him fifteen feet away from us, but we figured we would be ok if we didn't look at him. That was much easier said than done.

When the He did enter the room there was a detectable stiffness in the air around our table. Everyone looked at him with deep loathing and fear. I grabbed Veronica's hand to comfort her and myself. She squeezed my hand gently in response; we both squeezed harder when He looked at us with an over-confident smirk on his face. Bill pretended to scratch his face as he looked away from Him; his eyes shone with held in tears.

"Would the defense like to make an opening statement, Mr. Kurlo?" the judge asked His lawyer.

"Yes, your honor," the man said. He was a short, middle-aged man with a deeply receding hairline wearing a suit that should've been retired several years ago. He stood before the courtroom facing the jury.

"My client has been charged with the kidnap and assault of the people at that table over there and several counts of forced prostitution and rape in the first and second degree against Ms. Oswell. Now it is clear that there was serious mental and physical damage done to these young people, but that does not mean what he was doing was not wanted by them."

"Objection!" our lawyer called. "There is sufficient evidence that proves that all of my clients were forced into whatever acts they did while in the custody of those men."

"Sit down, Ms. Cabot, we will get to your evidence later," the judge ordered.

Veronica turned to me with troubled eyes. I rubbed the back of her hand with my thumb and tried to give her a reassuring smile, but we both knew the things this man was saying disturbed both of us deeply. She feebly returned my smile, but it faded right after she turned her head back to the attorney.

"While some of the injuries they sustained were a bit traumatic, that is not necessarily my client's fault; you see, client has suffered the pain of losing his beloved wife to a group of neo-Nazis and shortly after losing his only daughter to suicide from the unbearable pain. Ever since he has suffered from heavy alcohol addiction that has impaired his ability to properly function. His only wish is to have his wife and daughter by his side again."

The man sat back down at his table at the end of his short speech.

"Now you may speak, Ms. Cabot," the judge addressed our attorney.

"Thank you, your honor. Ladies and gentlemen, do not let this con-artist fool you; he is 100% responsible for everything that happened to these innocent people over the past two years. Don't let the sob story of his family blind you from the fact that he was out for blood in this merciless act of vengeance. Yes, he does live with alcoholism; but that only fueled his rage and made him more violent towards them. The actions committed by this man are unforgivable and must receive the maximum punishment available."

The trial continued with the Ringleader first telling some bogus story of how he was a 'confused old man' who managed to think we were the group that killed his wife and had taken his daughter hostage. When asked about forcing Veronica to turn tricks, he said he didn't know what he was doing. 'Didn't know', my ass.

When it was our turn, we each went up and told what we went through individually and talked about how we were after we got back home. The defense attorney showed the jury photos of us while we were in the hospital. Most of the women, and even some of the men, cried at the sight of them. The Ringleader's lawyer didn't have any questions for us, which seemed odd according to Ms. Cabot. When Veronica took the stand and finished her story Ms. Cabot took out the photos and doctor's reports on her. As she read each note and panned each picture, each member of the jury looked back and forth between the pictures and her, obvious shock on their faces. She looked nervous up there, yet determined at the same time. When she was done with her bit, His lawyer stood up for the first time since the beginning of the trial.

"Ms. Oswell, you lived with my client for how long, again?" he asked.

"I was _held prisoner_ for a little over eighteen months."

"And during that time, you never tried to leave on your own?"

"I was afraid that He would try to kill me if I did."

"You claim that my client forced you into prostitution, is that right?"

"Yes."

"According to him, you liked having sex with the men he set you up with."

"That's not true, I despised it."

"Really? Cause, I never would've guessed by the way you acted in all the videos he had of you," the man said suggestively.

_Videos? She never mentioned any videos._

"What are you talking about?" Veronica looked worried.

"If I may, your honor?" the man addressed the judge.

"Proceed," he said, interested.

A T.V. was wheeled into the room on a cart. There were several VHS tapes on the cart as well. The lawyer picked up one of them at random.

"I present to you all videos my client took of Ms. Oswell having intercourse with several different men, including my client."

He put the tape in the VCR and hit the play button; an image of Veronica standing against a wall appeared on the screen. Her eyes looked glassy and lifeless and her body was basically limp. From off camera, His voice was giving her instructions; take your shirt off, unbutton your pants. She did them all robotically, her face never changing. Another man walked on camera and more instructions came; kiss her here, touch him there, do this with your hands, make more noise. The look on his face was like a predator stalking it's pray; hers was still lifeless.

"What is this?" our lawyer asked.

"Ask your client, Ms. Cabot. She's the one taking her clothes off."

Veronica's face was streaked with tears and covered in embarrassment.

"What was that Ms. Oswell?" His lawyer asked her.

"I don't remember; he gave me drugs; I went days without remembering anything; He had dozens of men over all the time; I never noticed a camera," she said distantly, shaking her head as she spoke.

"You certainly weren't resisting in that video."

"Objection! The victim clearly had no knowledge of these videos," Ms. Cabot said.

"She's looking right onto the camera."

"She's obviously intoxicated."

"That's enough," the judge said. "Defense has apparently withheld evidence from the D.A. I am ordering all these tapes be handed over to Ms. Cabot for reviewing. This trial will continue in four days after prosecution has had a chance to catch up with defense. In the mean time, Mr. Kurlo, you are on thin ice."

As we left the courthouse, Veronica didn't look at or speak to me.


End file.
